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Dear Dirty Diary,

My darling husband returned today after his five day, late September fishing trip to Schooner Lake. After thorough questioning it turned out he'd gotten a little apprehensive being all alone up there amongst the wailing loons and spirits of dead Algonquin Indians. He swears there's some kind of energy around the fire pit on the island that spooks him. So he drove back down to the condo to visit the kids. On the way down from Plevna, he went to a Saturday night concert at Peterborough and saw Lisa Brokop perform. I was so pissed, but when he pulled out a signed copy of her new CD out of his bag I decided to forgive him for his wandering ways.

When I asked him if there were any more presents in his bag, he pulled out an array of HoMEDIC massagers that he'd bought at the Pickering Markets. The big one was shaped like ET's head and neck and had two black bullet-shaped bumpers on it that looked like bulging eyeballs. Ten others he said he paid $5 apiece for looked like and were labeled as wireless computer mice. Doug took one out of its package after I asked him what good they'd be with my laptop. He said they'd make good stocking stuffers for the Richelieu River gals.

With that he pulled out the waistband of my pants, stuffed it right down inside the front of my underwear then pushed the center button on the mouse. Some computer mouse! It was a personal vibrator designed to just ...

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